


regrettably

by Stabbsworth



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Bleeding to death, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mentions of Bodily Decomposition, Resurrection, mentions of self harm, really just a fic i wrote real quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stabbsworth/pseuds/Stabbsworth
Summary: Wilson has to revive Webber after the most recent hound attack.





	regrettably

Regrettably, there'd been one casualty in the most recent hound attack.

Webber.

Almost gingerly, Wilson picked the dying child up and held them in his arms, trying to bring some idle chatter to bring some small, shoddily stitched-together semblance of comfort.

There was no use in telling them, begging them to stay awake.

He knew they'd turn into a ghost at some point after breathing their last breath, after the reddish-purple blood stopped flowing from their open wounds -- too many open wounds to stitch up in time, they didn't have the materials -- and leaving behind a skeleton, stripped of organs, veins and musculature.

It was then that he'd be reminded again that this place was no place for a child to grow up in. He thought about it, perhaps a little too much, perhaps at night when the other survivors were asleep (barring Wickerbottom). He daren't request anything to help with this, their supplies were often drained within the winter's frost and needed to be restocked.

He set the child's body down and waited, watching the apparition come out and simply remaining there to see the muscles and organs and liquids turn to dust and leave behind a bleached skeleton.

They'd feel better after they were up and running around again. They'd be feeling even better with a quick injection of a booster shot. (Thankfully, they no longer squirmed when this happened. It had become a standard procedure, more-or-less.)

They'd be expecting a heart in a moment.

Wilson crafted one, methodically, recipe being trained into his muscle memory at this point. Another scar on his arms that would heal in time, provided that he disinfected it with a makeshift salve. Several times. And made sure it stayed covered.

He stuffed his gloves in his pocket, handing the heart out to Webber's ghost.

The usual procedure.

As per usual, they fell on their ass very unceremoniously and he'd scoop them up in a tight hug, then begin trekking back to the base.

**Author's Note:**

> this is something super quick i wrote up. it's intended to be vaguely whumpy, but i can't write that too well.


End file.
